The Marmot: Not So Much With Keeping Certain Items, Um, Clean

A refrigerator was left to us by the previous owners of our house. We designated this “the beer fridge” when we moved in and shortly after held a party where some generous guests brought 3 half racks of beer that were stowed therein. Unfortunately, no one ever wanted to drink this beer, because a slightly moldy smell wafted out upon opening the refrigerator—that can affect one’s appetite. So the fridge was soon after unplugged and no one opened it for about two years. I opened it Tuesday night and ye gods—what mold can do with a little condensation!!! It’s a sight to behold—white and green strings and clouds of mold reaching out of the holes in the cardboard carriers—which would probably crumble at the first touch--and the smell has progressed from slightly moldy into the upper echelons of intense stank, making one cough. You may be assured that I will be dealing with that beer and wiping the thing down with bleach before the item is Freecycled. Let me clarify—it will be the Marmot who does this, and not MSH.* And I will be wearing a mask and rubber gloves. Which gloves will be afterward disinfected with bleach and sanitized in the upper rack of the dishwasher. Unless I get comments telling me this is a short track to a burnt-up dishwasher.

Yesterday I did the following to my four-door Toyota Corolla:

Got my oil changed by those hucksters at Jiffy Lube
Had my tires checked at Les Schwab—A-OK!
Deposited 80 pounds of crap from my basement into the practically full-to-the-brim (for remodel only!) storage unit
Cleaned out car (trash, etc—as distinct from “shit” deposited in storage unit)
Vacuumed my car
Cleaned non-plush surfaces of car, including scrub-brushing an area of feculence beneath the e-brake which had been feculent for like three years—exhilarating!
Cleaned interior of the rear window and one back passenger window

As you know if you know me personally and/or have taken a ride in my car, or even looked at from the outside, this is more cleaning and maintenance than my car has seen in the previous two years and ESPECIALLY on the same day. The big trip to Onion Town, which includes two passengers to whom I am not married, has me on high car-hygiene alert. And I’m not done. I have high hopes, before leaving town, of obtaining one of those pine tree air fresheners, new wiper blades, a trash bag of some description, and maybe applying Rain-X to the windshield if I have time.

The only thing that’s really lame about my car now (besides the fact that its exterior is mighty filthy) is that some joker made off with the Toyota logo on the trunk. In its place is a Toyota logo-shaped…turdness, slightly drooping on one side. I have not replaced because I don’t find the time to go to the dealership now that I’ve sworn off their $40 oil changes and I feel sure that the thing will cost me $50 without installation. You doubt it? Try breaking a reflective trunk panel. I got a “special price” of $215 because I batted my eyelashes. Now, the root of the problem is backing into my parents’ trash can at 20 miles an hour, but there’s an explanation which I won’t get into here, and which one of us hasn’t backed into a trash can? Seriously, folks!

MSH is obsessed with Season 1 of "Lost" on DVD. And I'm getting a bit sucked in, myself, although I haven't seen the first four episodes. How can you possibly watch the cliffhanger ending of an episode and wait a whole week--I couldn't handle the stress, let alone the delicate balance that is MSH. We've already decided he will wait until Season 2 is out on DVD so he can watch it all at once. And seriously, he is hot.

One of the coolest things about the trip to Onion Town: Getting to see Perpetual Thursday. (At least, I hope she'll agree to see me after reading the foregoing evidence of my lack of cleanliness.) One of the other coolest things? Breakfasting at Clarette's! They're very old-school, they don't have a website. More cool things, actually experienced, to be posted Monday!

*I'm also in charge of spider removal. Hey, someone told me the other day that if you put indoor spiders outside, they die. What do you say?

reunion

The donuts were delish! I had a regular glazed. It was as big as my head, and very tasty.

I spent the weekend in Portland. If this does not interest you, don't read the foregoing.

The production of "The Music Man" I attended on Friday night at the Lakewood Center for the Arts was AWESOME!!! I hadn't seen a live performance of this musical in years, and it's my favorite musical, and I played in the pit orchestra for it my senior year of high school. Suffice it to say, I was fairly overstimulated and DELIGHTED the entire time. A classmate of mine reprised her lead role from that high school production and she is AWESOME. Her name is Jennifer Gill--she has a beautiful, mellifluous voice, classically trained and she's just incredible. It was a great production overall, but she just stole the show. Well, maybe someone in the lead can't steal the show. She MADE the show. "The Music Man" is playing through October at the Lakewood Center for the Arts in Lake Oswego, OR. I highly recommend it! I also highly recommend Le Bouchon, the French restaurant where K and I ate prior. Amazing food, hot blue-eyed French waiter. Easily better-looking than any French male I saw while living in France for five months. Seriously. Either they export the good-looking ones when they come of age, or a Frenchman in France really is like Superman on Krypton.

The next morning I took a quick run up the hill to the Washington Park Rose Garden. The sun was up but the streets were deserted and the air was pleasantly nippy. After a delicious and surprisingly affordable lunch at the Heathman Hotel restaurant, I met K2 and we did some shopping. MSH had given us the green-light to purchase him a nice, but jeans-coordinating shirt. We had to ask some straight customers in the store for their input--we had a pretty good idea they were straight because they were out shopping in Downtown Portland in athletic shorts and T-shirts with the sleeves cut off--but the deed was soon done at 30% off.

Later, we met K2's mom and my sister at Starbucks. I brought my sister a Calphalon pan I got for $5 at a garage sale. She brought me some free swag--sunglasses and a cute pink running cap--from a globally branded athletic wear company. Which she may or may not work for on a contract basis. We do this ritual exchange of gifts at each meeting, and the goods are never full-price.

We later had lunch at...Frick, I forget where, but they put this gorgonzola on my salad that blew my MIND.

Skipping ahead so as not to bore you, and to get this post up that I've been working on for three days--The reunion! Was great. I was glad I went. While I admit that it isn't a compelling reason to go, it's true that you talk to people you never did in high school, and they are unbelievably cool and you have great conversations. You also have great conversations with the people you did hang out with and have kept in touch with! It was a lot of fun, and after the reunion shut down, we went here for the pizza, here for the doughnuts (where it was imperative that I buy a pair of underwear emblazoned with sexually suggestive phrase--I'll let you guess which phrase,) and then here where our fellow alumni had migrated en masse when the official reunion venue shut down. It was pretty intense, a room filled with faces most of which when you saw them popped up stories into your head that you hadn't thought of in years. At one point I surveyed the room and J asked me "Are you freaking out?" I answered, "It's blowing my freaking mind!" My overwhelming impression, though, is that with few exceptions everyone is happier, more comfortable in their skin. Kinder, wiser.

Now, here were the problems with the reunion:
-It was held upstairs in a chain Irish bar. Which, to me, negates its Irishness somehow.
-It was run by a big ol' reunion company who grossed around $30,000 but stuck us with a cash bar. I realize it's a lot of work tracking everyone down, but maybe we can just hang onto these little books they got us with everyone's address and do it ourselves next time. With hosted kegs and whatnot. And Virgos will be in charge!!
-There wasn't enough space for all of us--we were crammed into three little rooms and you couldn't SEE everybody.
-Most importantly, the music was turned WAY up so you had to shout to be heard--except in the corner "conversation" room, which you didn't know existed because no one told you about it and you couldn't see into it through the crush of people. I guess the music was so we would dance, but frankly, f*** that, we'd like to talk. Thanks. Not that there's anything wrong with dancing, Ren.
-Like thirty people I wanted to see did not show up.

It was a good experience. I encourage you to go to yours. But I'll understand if you don't.

Abre la puerta!

The To* *ot is open! The chain-link fence is down and everything is shiny and sundappled and AVAILABLE. I just stopped by and bought three doughnuts--technically two doughnuts and one fritter. I haven't eaten them yet because I want MSH to pick his favorite. Not to mention a certain someone who's meeting my train! Everything is shiny and new, and I enjoyed witty banter with the doughnut specialist who served me. Ah, the marmot loves the witty banter. I heard from a coworker that there was QUITE a lineup outside this morning (I was crying at an NPR StoryCorps segment, and hence drove by completely oblivious.)

Happy Birthday, To* *ot Wedgwood!

Off to the ten-year high school reunion. Oh yes. Wish us luck.

CORRECTION: I previously stated they have a drive-through window in back. They do not. They have 5 or six parking spots and one-way arrows (in scripty font!) to guide you AROUND the building.

Ain't Nothin' but a Donut Party

Any of you who read the comments on the last post have possibly been in the grip of a mild case of suspense: WOULD THE MARMOT leave her burrow to venture to a private donut store celebration? WAS THE PARTY actually a RUSE to tar and feather the mouthy marmot?

In brief, yes, and no.

I arrived solo at the purported party at approximately 10:00 PM, fashionably late and late enough to avoid undue attention. (I had just had two PBRs down at Atlas Foods with MSH and his buddy, who went straight to the airport and embarked for NYC.) The place was hoppin'--a mixed crowd of kids, hipsters, golden oldies; hippies, yuppies, and beautiful people. I saw the owner (I think I saw his picture in an old Seattle Times article online) gladhanding and looking sharp in a black suit and blue shirt, no tie as I recall.

The grub: mini old-fashioneds with plenty-o frosting (a cherished aspect of the To* *ot doughnut for me,) and mini-maple bars. Yummy. There were other hors d'oeuvres, but I demurred in favor of a beer. Beer and doughnuts. Homer Simpson would have felt at home.

The building: Omigod it is *gorgeous.* Especially the terrazzo floors! I don't know what a terrazzo is, but the floors are lovely. The lighting inside and outside under the portico, if you will, consists of fifties retro fixtures, kind of cone shaped, with pinholes in the sides that cast starry rays across the ceilings. There's a fifties feel throughout--v. cute clock in particular. When you walk in, the bar is straight ahead; to your right, the donut production facilities and the restrooms; to your left, a large room, which will normally be filled with chairs and tables, I suppose. There are three large windows in this room and the walls are floor to ceiling bookshelves made of warm-toned wood, and stocked with books such as the Children's Encyclopedia (or similar,) The Hardy Boys mysteries, and The Big Book of Trains. I was charmed.

The interaction: Minimal. I'm not cut out to be an investigative journalist. I tried to make eye contact, appear approachable...no dice. I finally made overtures to the least threatening group within eyeshot, three young male skaters, who turned out to be the least consequential people, the most removed from the proprietors/operators, besides myself. They were there for the beer, and Dave, the one I talked to the longest, insisted that I was, too--since I didn't reveal the real impetus behind my visit. He had on a sweatshirt that said "the Droors" a la the Doors. Turns out he lives around the corner from me, and has lived here all his life. He kept recognizing parents of elementary school classmates at the party. Understandably, this freaked him out. His two friends made themselves scarce, possibly in order not to spoil his "play."

According to my mystery commenter, the grand opening of To* *ot Wedgwood is tomorrow! I'm getting off work early so I will come down and see what there is to see. (And, you know. Eat...what there is to eat.)

***UPDATED TO ADD***

Running errands for work, I passed the TP--there are some super cute retro patio umbrellas out front, white with strips of red and blue, I cannot find a photo on the internet in five minutes of searching, but they're made of metal strips, like you'd see on an old fashioned lemonade or snow-cone cart. They've also put in concrete plugs to keep the drive-through cars away from the front entrance--yes, there's a drive-through!! That's going to give GB a run for their money, not to mention SB down the street!

Donut Update!

OK, OK, Omigod! First: An alert reader told me via the comments that To* *ot Doughnuts Wedgwood would be open on Friday. (Coincidentally, this is the same day my phat new office chair is scheduled to be delivered by UPS--one small part of the answer to what Brown can do for Me.) Second: I can confirm that the parking lot has finally been paved, and there were like ten people in the building and out front Monday morning using table saws and gesticulating wildly. Very Promising. Third: A particularly succulent comment* appeared JUST NOW on my "Donut Smackdown!!!" entry, dated 8.31.05. Go look. I'll wait. This comment is completely overstimulating me. For one, it is more of a smackdown than my post ever was. For two, this person seems to be IN THE KNOW. Unlike myself. So that's exciting. He or she is a Celebrity Commenter, and informs us that scheduled opening is NEXT Friday, not this Friday. For three, the comment highlights the fact that I have not followed the rule "If you can't say something nice (about a donut store,) don't say anything at all (about a donut store.)" Causing me to feel a mite like a woolly ungulate. FURTHERMORE, this comment is potentially proof that someone I have never met face-to-face has read this blog on at least one occasion, which renders me swoony with shock.

WILL THE TO* *OT OPEN as scheduled next Friday?!?!? WILL THE MARMOT break her troth and succumb to deep-fried frosted goodness??!!?! STAY TUNED, DEAR READER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*All comments are succulent, though. I know that sounds like "everybody's a winner," but seriously, I love all comments. I am a geek.

Why I Love The Internets Today

Just bought a shirt from my favorite purveyor of kooky t-shirts. (Mmm, how I love kooky t-shirts!)



This small company in Chicago, Illinois,* which company I personally enjoy, is raising a whole lotta schwag. It was a whole lotta schwag at $50K, which they hit when the first allotment sold out sometime during the morning they notified their list (before I checked my email!) And now they're aiming for $100K. When I went to the site to order, they were at $82,800; once I'd completed my order, they were at $82,900. So me and nine other people bought shirts to support their efforts in that very minute! Ooooh, I do love the internets. (Should point out that this is not really a philanthropic act on my part--I am getting a cool shirt. Yay me. But hopefully, yay other people, too.) In addition, as you probably know, there are lots of cool things being done to assist Katrina survivors, and proud are we of all of them.

A word about the View Askew auction (see "cool" above): I already thought Kevin Smith was pretty cool, but I can't quite get over him posing in front of his barbecue there. He looks like such a regular guy. Not just because his character is nicknamed Snack Shack in his films--and he's not ugly or anything, he just exudes normalcy. Like he probably scratches himself around his in-laws and doesn't give two shits--that kind of normalcy. This is like a snapshot of somebody I might have known in high school. I love it.

*I worked at campus radio in college, and we had an already ancient public service announcement, I think it was supposed to be a "rap" PSA, so the "kids" could "relate" to it; anyway, it went like this:
"Scruff McGruff, Chicago Illinois, Six Oh Six Five Two!" (lather rinse repeat)
So help me it has been six years and every time I write, think, or say Chicago Illinois, I hear that in my head, in a sing songy child's, excuse me PUPPY'S, voice.

smattering

I got to work this morning and had an email from a customer wanting to add himself to the existing license we have with his company. But he typed: Would you please ass me to our license?

That's good stuff.

I have never read anything by this Nick Hornby person. Should I?

I have photos of the first day of (de)construction in our basement! But they're trapped on my digital camera. Neener.

Over the weekend I read In the Wake of the Plague: The Black Death and the World It Made -- by Norman Cantor. MSH and I were at B&N on Friday night and I thought it looked very interesting, so he bought it for me. (MSH isn't a big proponent of something I like to call the LIBRARY.) It was pretty good, but a little too academic--like he just transcribed some lectures or reworked a longer paper. He rambles on a bit, he repeats himself--sometimes he gets off topic and since he's not giving a lecture, I can't look back on the blackboard to remind myself of dates, personages, etc. And he jumps wildly forward in time, comparing some group of people to Americans raised during the Great Depression who went on to fight in World War II. And boom, then back to the 14th century we go! Basically, it wasn't the gripping type of historical writing I enjoy. Like, say, Barbara Tuchman. That woman could make Cream of Wheat so interesting you couldn't put it down. I couldn't help feeling a bit cheated, like THIS is why I like to go to the library. Now I have a $13 book which, if I'm lucky, the bookstore down the street will give me $4 in trade for. THAT BEING SAID, it does have fascinating insights into what the Black Plague might really have been and what caused and exacerbated it, how it changed the course of history (which has been left out of many a historical treatise I have read,) and how history might have been different if it hadn't swept through Europe like a scythe. So if you're into that kind of stuff, check it out. It's not a long book. But get it at the library.

On Sunday I did go to the library and pick up a hold--Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon -- by Thomas M. Myers, Michael P. Ghiglieri. I saw this book in the gift shop when we were at the Grand Canyon last month and it appealed to the macabre in me. And it does not disappoint. I cannot put this freaking thing down! While we were there, we made a short (2 miles round trip--1.5 hours) hike in the morning down a portion of the Bright Angel Trail from the South Rim, and frankly if I had read this book first, I'm not sure I would have set foot inside the canyon! The first part of the book is all about people dying (or nearly dying) of heat stroke/dehydration/exhaustion. It seems as if in the climate of the Grand Canyon (probably exacerbated by yokels such as myself popping in from much lower elevations--fun fact: Grand Canyon rim is at 7,000 feet--it's in the second highest plateau in the world, the highest being Tibet) can get you into spitting distance of death without you (ie, the yokel) realizing it. You need a minimum of 2 gallons of water per day, and you cannot (as is posted everywhere) make it down to the river and back to the rim in one day. But does this stop people (mostly able-bodied males between 17 and 30--also the most expensive to insure!)? No, dear reader, it does not. Another significant risk factor seems to be hiking alone. Just don't do it. Especially if you are one of the males in question, you just seem to get cockamamie ideas into your head while hiking alone, usually "It's devilishly tiresome that this clearly delineated trail heads downhill at this point. I will head off-route and get straight up, making my own 'shortcut.'" Once you're in trouble, severe dehydration,* much like deep-sea scuba diving** or extremely high-altitude mountain climbing, makes you crazy in a hurry, and then you do really insane, tragic things. Like not drink the rest of the water in your pack. Or pass up your near-death nephew on the trail, while you yourself have a pack full of water, to go ahead to the ranch, mix up some Gatorade, and return to him.

The being alone and thinking up crazy things to do thing makes sense to me--it could be as simple as missing a turn in the train--but I have never been alone in anything that could possibly be termed the wilderness, so my yokelness has never been given free reign. Hopefully, it never will.

More on this later--there are other categories of death, of course.

It seems this is not the only book about dying in National Parks.

*And, I reiterate, the Grand Canyon seems to be an express train from mild dehydration to severe dehydration.

**For more on this, see a relatively mediocre book whose subject matter is so fabulously gripping you will not be able to tear yourself away.

*********************************************
UPDATED TO ADD:
After bitching about the black plague book to my boss, who recognized the guy's name, he looked him up and it was revealed that Norman F. Cantor is currently deceased and is "America's most popular medievalist." Well, don't I look like the effin' asshole. My boss was also unsympathetic about the lack of zest in the writing, because Mr. Cantor is (was) a professor, and thinks I'm obsessed with death. Just because of these two books in one week.

whither dj jazzy schwartz?

Oh. My. God. The season premiere of the O.C. was lastnight. And folks? It was pretty effin' disappointing. It was like the show was attacked in the off-season by a vampire that sucked all humor and intelligence right out of it. I think Josh Schwartz is still writing it, so what gives? I fear he may have gone to town on a bottle of Quaaludes and watched 8 seasons of "Murder She Wrote" back to back before penning this episode, because that is the brand of yuks and witty repartee to which I, the innocent viewer, was subjected. Let's hope Joshy had a long nap and a cold shower before he wrote the rest of the season. The situation is dire.

I was cringing from beginning to end, from the wavy, distorted, hyperdramatic color-changey intro in the ER where Ryan Atwood passed out-- what was up with that? Not sexy!--to the peak of cringiness--the conversation Kirsten and Sandy had outside the palatial rehab clinic about the "bachelors" microwaving peanut butter. Yowch.

I mean, everything has gone wrong: shitty dialogue, wooden performances--I didn't even like the MUSIC, which has always been this show's forte. Whoever decides how it's going to be SHOT (the cinematographer?) and the editors--even they suck all of a sudden. (Four kids on rock CLOSEUP ON SUMMER FROM A RADICALLY DIFFERENT ANGLE same shot of ensemble on rock POINTLESS CLOSEUP WITH DIALOG OFF-CAMERA, or my other favorite--LET'S SPEND THIRTY WHOLE SECONDS PANNING ON RYAN AND MARISSA GETTING INTO THE LAND ROVER.) My favorite part of the episode was the still-horrible, forced-cheese montage of the kids frolicking on the beach--because there was no speaking! At the end of this montage as the kids are sitting around the campfire, Ryan Atwood/Benjamin McKenzie did (I think?) a frightening, nasal impression of Summer. It was really, really strange, not to mention out of character. The four young leads didn't have to act awkward or say over and over again how awkward and lame everything was--the show just WAS awkward and lame, from Marissa's Dad (Tate Donovan) clucking and rolling his eyes as his ex-wife (who now he wants to get back together with?!) pluckily, mischievously PLOTS TO SEND A YOUNG MAN TO JAIL to Marissa taking thirty seconds out of her day to whine a confession out of Trey--that was hard--and um, Marissa, you're SURPRISED your mom would do this? She's tried to put Ryan in jail before, and she spent the better part of a season BONKING YOUR BOYFRIEND!! She's an evil bitch, yo!

Yes, Ryan Atwood's hair is better, but he's looking a bit like Richy Rich or a Ken doll--the hair never moves and it's sort of 1950's. I'm not complaining! Don't bring back the bowl-cut fro, PLEASE!! I'm not even going to talk about Jeri Ryan--that ex-Borg ho who's hanging around doorways staring at Kirsten, giving Sandy the stink-eye when he visits at the rehab clinic--hmm, I WONDER if she has a HIDDEN AGENDA that she's going to WREAK UPON THE COHENS?!!?? Oh wait, I did just talk about her.

I think the basic problem is the subject matter-- too serious. There was violence in the first two seasons--usually fisticuffs. Fisticuffs are exciting, without being that serious. There are sexy bruises (I'm sorry, Benjamin McKenzie looks sexy with cuts and bruises on his face--you all are thinking it, I'm just saying it! Just kidding. I know I'm the only thinking it.) It was a teen drama with wry, self-effacing, sometimes self-parodic humor. But there's a limit to the type of subject matter that can be suspended within that framework. People getting shot is too heavy for the gossamer strings of irony and sarcasm--it's all come crashing down. This was perfectly illustrated in the scene where we (once again--just like the beginning of season 2! I should have stopped expecting even a whiff of originality when it was revealed that a character was in a COMA) find Summer and Marissa baking by the pool. Marissa reminds Summer "I _shot_ somebody." (ergo, the fan balloon hath been popped--tell it, sister!) She gives this line all the pathos you'd expect were she lamenting a missed Saks sample sale. (Do they have sample sales? I've never been to a sample sale.) And you can't blame this all on Mischa Barton's shaky acting skills--she's on "the O.C." for gosh sakes, not "Law & Order" or "The Thorn Birds!" She didn't sign up for this kind of gravitas. The show can't do serious--it's trying and its pants just fall down and trip it.

Speaking of which, I know this is nitpicky, but the whole premise of the show--that the prosecutor was trying to pin the shooting on Ryan--I'm sorry, it's absurd. If you've ever seen any of the following: "Law & Order," "NYPD Blue," "Murder She Wrote," (hello!) or "Perry Mason," you may have picked up on the fact that when a gun is discharged, it emits a gunpowder residue that is only deposited on the person holding the weapon when it fired and any person(s) standing very close to her. Therefore, since Marissa obviously didn't shower before arriving at the ER close on Trey's heels, she would have been coated in this residue, while Ryan, lying on the floor several feet away with Trey between him and the gun, would have no residue upon him and hence would not be prosecuted unless the local police force/prosecutors' office had it in for him. Which they don't--O.J. Simpson? Maybe, but not Ryan Atwood, why would they care? And then at the end WHOOPS Trey recants and jumps on a bus (do they ALLOW Greyhound buses in the O.C.?) and la de da everything is fine again. I have been criticized in the past for expecting too much realism from shows and movies that are just supposed to be entertainment, but in the same show we're subjected to all sorts of legalistic mumbo jumbo about the case--it's not too much to ask as a TV viewer that a show either be a)clever and entertaining or b) somewhat believable. If you have neither a) or b), you got nothing. Except a very soft sound--what is that--yes, yes, I think it's--the sound of one show sucking.

This show was a well-oiled machine and now it's frozen up, losing altitude, heading for a crash. I give it two more episodes to get back on track--writing? chemistry between the actors? Hell, I'll even take the direction or cinematography (or whatever it's called for TV.) But dammit, this show has been sweet, sweet nectar to me for two seasons and I will not sit idly by as it turns into soap-flavored gruel. Two more episodes, Josh, and if you don't kick it up a notch, then by Little Miss Vixen, I shall turn my face away.

Quilts!

Am making two twin-sized quilts to be provided to Hurricane Katrina evacuees. The effort is a bit of a logistical challenge as the majority of my fabric and sewing supplies (but not my machines!) are in a storage unit waiting out the basement remodel. Undaunted! I went on my lunch hour yesterday and after a comical interlude which revealed that our storage facility is NOT a well-oiled machine, gained access to the unit and rooted through plastic boxes, selecting bits of fabric.

5:30 PM: After getting home from work, I go to the local quilt shop and buy some 50%-off fabric for the backs of the quilts, and a few other pieces. I buy some full-price heart fabric. Says my mom, savoring the flavor via mobile phone: “But you don’t like hearts?!” I respond, “I know, but they ARE the international symbol for love!”

6:00 PM: I go home, put the new fabric in the washer to preshrink, then iron the fabric retrieved from the storage unit.

6:30 PM: Ready to cut fabric into squares and strips. Oh. No rotary cutter. Spend half an hour looking for rotary cutter, then give up and drive back to the quilt shop to buy a new one: $17.91 with tax.

6:55 PM: Prepare mac and cheese, eat. Somehow disable cable box by changing channels (FOX was the offending choice.) There’s a quarter-size box at top right, and an 8th-size box at lower left. Both contain the “On Demand” preview channel, and I can’t change the channel.

6:57 PM: Decide to watch DVD “Bottle Rocket.” Some moments I love this movie--it hints at Wes Anderson's future brilliance--and then I totally lose interest and have to turn it off. This is not like me—Sheer Cover infomercials hold my interest.

7:15 PM: Cut fabric, begin sewing.

7:20 PM: Realize my White sewing machine is on the fritz. No matter what I adjust stitch length to, it ratchets back to TEENY TINY stitches which slow down the process and make the dining room table jiggle up and down to an irritating degree. Put away White sewing machine.

7:22 PM: Set up beautiful Singer featherweight, which sews like a dream! Huzzah! They don’t make them like this anymore!

8:07 PM: Decide based on motley fabric selection, instead of two color-coordinated quilts, one quilt will be brights/primaries, and the other will be pastel.

9:22 PM: Sh*t! Remember exactly where old rotary cutter is.

11:15 PM: Bobbin runs out. I don’t notice for 6 more feet. Take this as a sign to stop sewing. Cut all plain squares for bright quilt—hard to scrounge up enough brights/primaries! There will be a lot of yellow in this quilt. Most of my fabric has flowers on it, so I don’t know that a boy or a man will like it, though!

11:45 PM: Bed!

If you've overdosed on news, don't read this.

NOTE: This post is just a rant, me letting off steam, and does not bring up any original facts or opinions you won’t have heard or thought yourself if you’ve been paying attention to the news.

I am distracted/pissed off/heartbroken by the news coming out of New Orleans. The federal government (and possibly the state government?) should have been swifter in their response. And they still aren’t getting it done, although the most recent reports are getting a little more promising. It would seem the planning could have been better, as well as preparation outside of the area affected by the hurricane. The mayor of New Orleans today told the authorities “get off your asses.” Here’s a transcript of his entire press conference. He was obviously very frustrated and I can see why. The thing that was really blowing my mind today was someone from FEMA saying they weren’t aware that people were gathering at the Convention Center until Wednesday, when city officials had been instructing citizens to gather there since Monday or Tuesday.* (I cannot bring myself to repeat what is occurring there—you’ll have to read CNN if you have the stomach.) I sure read reports of the already hellish conditions in that building on Tuesday, so how could FEMA have their heads that far up their asses?! I hope in the months to come, data can reliably be gathered on this unholy clusterf**k in order to plan and prepare better for future natural disasters, because this is awful. We’re the richest and in many ways, the most powerful country in this world, and innocent people are being raped, shot, or just dying of heat exhaustion/thirst/hunger in New Orleans in the aftermath of a disaster whose potential devastation (both natural and man-made) had been specifically (and, for the most part, accurately) predicted for years before. Is it just that there’s no command structure there? One shocking figure in the earlier CNN article was that 4,200 National Guardsmen will arrive in the city on Friday and that will “quadruple the number of law enforcement personnel.” So right now there’s only about 1,000 law enforcement people there! Some of the New Orleans police have been drowned or shot, and some that haven’t been are starting to turn in their badges, according to one officer now in Baton Rouge after spending 60 hours straight on the job.

Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, but I have to believe we can do better!

I received emails this morning detailing campaigns to provide quilts for Hurricane Katrina victims later in the year, as they return to their homes. (I say later in the year because my reaction on reading the first line of the first email as “Omigod quilts?! It’s so hot down there right now!!!!”) Also, the American Quilt Society is matching donations by quilters to the Red Cross Disaster Relief Fund up to $10,000. I made a donation yesterday, so I emailed the information to the given address right away. If you are a quilter, comment to ask for the email address.

Hilary Duff is donating $250,000 and encourages fans to donate money and bring canned food to her concerts. I have mixed emotions about celebrities coordinating press releases with disaster-relief donations, but if it gets fans to open their wallets, I guess it’s a good thing.

I guess all we can do is donate, pray, and encourage our elected leaders to improve disaster relief, both now and in future.

*Not one hundred percent positive on the specific days—I can’t find the CNN article I read earlier this morning, so I can’t be sure.